man began to choke with fury, unable to continue, except by gesture.

But the jerky gestures were terribly significant: soldiers were already
pushing Burley across the road toward a great oak tree; six men fell out
and lined up.

"M-my Government--" stammered the young fellow--but was given no
opportunity to speak. Very white, the chill sweat standing on his forehead
and under his eyes, he stood against the oak, lips compressed, grey eyes
watching what was happening to him.

Suddenly he understood it was all over.

"Djack!"

He turned his gaze toward Maryette, where she struggled toward him, held
by two soldiers.

"Maryette--Carillonnette--" His voice suddenly became steady, perfectly
clear. "_Je vous aime_, Carillonnette."

"Oh, Djack! Djack!" she cried in terror.

He heard the orders; was aware of the levelled rifles; but his reckless
greyish eyes were now fixed on her, and he began to laugh almost
mischievously.

"Vooz etes tray belle," he said, "--tray, tray chick----"

"Djack!"

But the clang of the volley precluded any response from him except the
half tender, half reckless smile that remained on his youthful face where
he lay looking up at the sky with pleasant, sightless eyes, and a sunbeam
touching the metal mule on his blood-wet collar.

CHAPTER XVII

FRIENDSHIP

She tried once more to lift the big, warm, flexible body, exerting all her
slender strength. It was useless. It was like attempting to lift the
earth. The weight of the body frightened her.

Again she sank down among the ferns under the great oak tree; once more
she took his blood-smeared head on her lap, smoothing the bright, wet
hair; and her tears fell slowly upon his upturned face.

"My friend," she stammered, "--my kind, droll friend.... The first friend
I ever had----"

The gun thunder beyond Nivelle had ceased; an intense stillness reigned in
the forest; only a leaf moved here and there on the aspens.

A few forest flies whirled about her, but as yet no ominous green flies
came--none of those jewelled harbingers of death which appear with
horrible promptness and as though by magic from nowhere when anything dies
in the open world.

Her donkey, still attached to the little gaily painted market cart, had
wandered on up the sandy lane, feeding at random along the fern-bordered
thickets which walled in the Nivelle byroad on either side.

Presently her ear caught a slight sound; something stirred somewhere in
th